Steampunk Dictatorship RP

[Oct-taku]

The year is 1879. In a stunning twist of events, the British industrialist Augustus Lorrimore has deposed Queen Victoria, crowning himself King of the British Empire. Using his massive politcal and economic sway, Lorrimore has effectivly shut down Parliament, those few not in his pocket "done away with."

Under Lorrimore's rule, the British Empire has expanded ruthlessly, having conquered almost all of Asia (Japan and other such islands excluded....for the moment), a good deal of North America (Canada, Mexico, and Central America), and large chunks of every other contienent. He rules it with an iron fist, his factories pumping out new technologies daily to wage war and conquer more lands as Lorrimore turns his gaze towards the Land of the Free.

But, meanwhile, not all in England are happy with the new regime. A resistance, however unorganized, however under-equipped and outmanned they are, has sprung up. Perhaps, just maybe, thing could revert to normality.


Rules

-Setting is London

-I’ll give everyone two character slots; use the second immediately or later, whenever it suits.

-I’m lenient with the tech, but think around WWI era-ish, plus a heaping helping of steampunk. Flamethrowers, airships, etc. are okay. Submachineguns are okay. Even clockwork cybernetics are okay. Lasers aren't.

-Pretty much any reasonable character choice is open. Good, evil, comical, the grey areas in between.

-No plagiarism on other players, keep your characters your own.

-No trenchcoating.

-Permission from other players before influencing their character.

-Have fun.

Characters:

Oct-
Oliver Symes, Richard Mayhew

Roman-
Jake featherston

Ty-
Samuel Owen

Scorp-
Dan Copperfield

Khall-
Commander Andrew Smythe
Captain Johna Khallos

[Captain Obvious]

Name:Jake Featherston.
Occupation:Chief Assault Leader in the Freedom Party.
Skills:Charismatic,Marksmanship,Survival(Namely 3 assassination attempts), Bandit Shooting(Using the recoil of a handgun to increase the speed at which his hand turns to hit multiple targets in quick succession), champion level fencer.
Age:26
Armament:An upgraded MP18 firing 45 caliber slugs.Has used A Broomhandle with the aforementioned Bandit Shooting on occasion
Height:5'9
Hair:Black
Eyes:Brown
Bio: Jake grew up in the US and joined the army at an early age.After serving a tour of duty, he decided to take action before the British ravaged his country, and began to gather support for his resistance group, the freedom party.He prepared for years, training members, recruiting new ones, and receiving many, many shipments of equipment from the Japanese, as his own government was confident that Britain would leave them be.He began his campaign a year ago and has managed to wage a secret war against the British in Canada, destroying railroads, munitions depots, anything of importance.Not to mention assassinating several military governors of different cities.

He has recently received a request from a resistance group in London to help them fight back. After taking an airship ride to Britain,Jake is confident he can unite the faltering pockets of resistance under the flag of the Freedom Party.

[Ty]

Name: Samuel Owen
Age: 34
Height: 5'9''
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Blonde
Occupation: General in Lorrimore's army.
Skills: Military strategy, interrogation, sharp-shooting
Weapons/Gear: The only weapon he has on his person is a Colt revolver, but he rarely needs it.

Bio:
Owen was an avid supporter of Augustus Lorrimore from the very beginning. He became a part of Lorrimore's inner circle, and when the time came to expand the British Empire, Owen was appointed to the position of General and set to the task of tightening the Empire's grip on the rest of the world.

While on the battlefield, out making his rounds, or just terrorizing the populace, Owen rides aboard an imposing air ship, powered by a combination of steam, helium and wind power. The nightmarish machine looks like an unsettling cross between a zeppelin, a steam engine and a DaVinci-inspired flying contraption. There are several cannons on board that Owen and his gunners use to fire flaming projectiles down onto enemy troops, or sometimes just burning down buildings to incite fear and obedience.

[Oct-taku]

NAME: Oliver Symes
ORGANIZATION: Ministry of Internal Affairs
AGE: Stricken from the record
HEIGHT: 5' 11"
EYES: Blue
HAIR: Blond, short
SPECIALTIES: Pistol Marksmanship, Command, Assassination, Piloting
NATIONALITY: British

Oliver Symes is a figure shrouded in more than a bit of mystery. Head of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, the secret police of the British Empire. Symes is easily the second most powerful man in the Empire, commanding the attention of Lorrimore himself, when need be. He commands a crack squad, specializing in rooting out and executing insurgents.

He uses a pair of heavily-customized Pepperbox revolvers, in .36 caliber. In additon, he probably has various other hold-out weapons concealed about his person.
****************************************************

NAME: Richard Mayhew
ORGANIZATION: various Resistance groups
AGE: 31
HEIGHT: 6'1"
EYES: Brown
HAIR: Red
SPECIALTIES: Hand-to-Hand combat, stealth, sabotage, general marksmanship.
NATIONALITY: British

If anyone can be said to be the face of the Resistance, it would be Richard Mayhew. A former worker in a steel mill, his first known act of "terrorism" was the bombing of several steel mills in the area of London. Since then, he has earned a "shoot-on-sight" order by all local police, the millitary, and the MIA.

He lives on the run, moving from Resistance group to Resistance group, assisting however he can. Both of his forearms are prosthetics, having fully-articulated fingers and retractible blades in the underside of the wrist. He's also never without a gun of some kind.

[Scorpio]

Name: Daniel (Dan) Copperfield
Age: 28
Height: 6'4''
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Brown
Occupation: Freelance journalist
Skills: Pistol marksmanship, boxing, athlete and deductive reasoning
Weapons/Gear: A pistol similar to the 1911 a pair of goggles with tinted lenses that amplify light and in his own words, the truth.

Dan is a popular journalist in london making a decent living off selling his articles to various newspapers, however given the government control they are all censored and warped. This irritates him to no end, but the pay is still good.

Currently Dan is looking to find a real outlet for his truths. To get the story to the people without govenrment highjacking. The MIA may have him on watch lists due to this.

[Oct-taku]

I declare this open. I can't be bothered to make an IC post right now (I've got an orthodontist's appointment later).

[Khallos]

NAME: Commander Andrew Smythe
ORGANIZATION: British Army
AGE: "Not too old", in his own words. He looks at least 50.
HEIGHT: 5' 8"
EYES: Blue
HAIR: Brown, short
SPECIALTIES: Rifle Marksmanship, Explosives, Heavy Machine Gun and Pistol use
NATIONALITY: British

In his youth Smythe was something of a hero to the British - he was one of the many men who spent their days on the outskirts of the empire, fighting off the foreign devils who sought to intrude on Her Majesty's land and giving his all at countless battles to win more land, all in the name of the empire! Smythe's glory days, however, were ended when he was badly wounded by an Impi tribesman and sent back to good old Blighty to recuperate.

In the few years Smythe spent recovering Britain changed greatly, and when he was finally discharged from the Andrew Reed hospital and back into active service Lorrimore had already seized power and was engineering his new empire.

Normally Smythe would have just been allowed to be retired, but new men were always needed for the Army and Smythe's reputation made him just the job. Given the rank of commander, he was stationed back in England, mainly to help bolster morale back in London than for any defensive reason.

****************************************************

NAME: Captain Johna Khallos
ORGANIZATION: Techno Pirates
AGE: 36
HEIGHT: 6'6
EYES: Deep Blue
HAIR: Black
SPECIALTIES: Submersible Piloting, Navigation, Sailing, Engineering and Mechanics, Martial Arts, Swordsmanship
NATIONALITY: None

If Britannia rules the waves then Khallos rules the depths, his name known in infamy from London to Bombay. Khallos is a fearsome pirate, the next in a long line on his father's side, born at sea and spending his lift growing up on his ship. And what a ship it is - something that could take on the largest British Destroyer and live to tell the tale. For Khallos is the Captain of a Submersible, the infamous Morlock.

He and his crew are famous for striking from no-where, boring their way into the underside of vessels after immobilising them with the Captain's self designed technology and plundering not just the cargo but equipment, arms and even men themselves, leaving few alive to tell the tale.

The Empire's recent rapid expansion has provoked the captain's rage, who views the steam cruisers sailing from shore to shore as interlopers on his waters. Recently the good captain has taken to harassing ships in the British Channel, particularly military cruisers, mostly to show that Lorrimore isn't the man of steel that he makes himself out to be.

[King Jager III]

Jul 29, 2008 18:39:35 GMT Khallos said:

Normally Khallos would have just been allowed to be retired, but new men were always needed for the Army and Smythe's reputation made him just the job. Given the rank of commander, he was stationed back in England, mainly to help bolster morale back in London than for any defensive reason.

Oversight Khall?

[Khallos]

Godammit, i thought i got all of those xD Im just so used to it...

[Oct-taku]

Still gonna be busy today. Someone else mind making the first IC post?

[Ty]

Alright, I'll start. This gives Khallos a possible encounter with Owen, as well as foreshadowing the introduction of my next character...

IC:

High above the streets of London, General Owen's airship hung in the sky like an ominous black cloud. To most loyal citizens of the British Empire, it was a symbol of their nation's strength and technological prowess. To everyone else, it was just a grim reminder of the day and age they lived in.

Owen stood on deck, at the very tip of the bow. He casually surveyed the people below, resting his hand on the port-side cannon. Owen was something of a sadist. He enjoyed personally raining fire down on his enemies, whether they were able to put up a fight or not. He has been known to burn down entire city blocks on a whim.

But, of course, this was only acceptable on foreign soil. So, where most men would be happy to see the city they call home again, Owen was just anxious, wishing he had something to burn.

"General," one of his subordinate officers interrupted his thoughts. Owen turned slowly to face him.

"Yes?" The grim look on Owen's face was perhaps only matched by the gloom of the ship itself. Spending years at a time at war left Owen looking significantly older than he actually was. This was just as well, though, since most of the officers were older than he was, and he felt he commanded more respect if fewer people knew that fact.

"Sir," the officer gave a salute, then continued. "We just received a wire, regarding the special armaments you requested from Vancouver. They are being shipped as we speak, sir. We expect their arrival in port within 24 hours."

"Good." Owen turned forward again, watching the city below. "Set a course for the English Channel."

"Sir?"

"These 'armaments' are very important to me, and with the recent rise in piracy, I cannot allow anything to happen to that ship. I want to personally see to it that it arrives on schedule. We will meet the cargo as it enters the English Channel and escort it into port."

"Yes, sir. I'll inform the men right away."

Owen didn't pay attention as the officer left. As his eyes wandered toward the horizon, he actually started to hope something did happen to the cargo ship. At least then he'd have some pirates to incinerate...

[Scorpio]

"God dammit Smith, every time I give you a story you do this. What's wrong with printing it as it is?"

Smith lowered his head, though spoke clearly as if someone was listening at all times.

"Your writings are based on hearsay....and rumor, blurry photos."

"A techno pirate craft robbing a supply ship despite the announcements that this same craft was destroyed and the crew killed or arrested months ago, just like they supposedly where before."

Dan paced around the office.

"So unless you got a copycat of a copycat pirate crew. The military hasn't been doing their job very well and lying about it."

"They could be copycats." replied Smith, as his eyes said "Shut up...I have a family to worry about."

Dan dropped the story on the table and took the cheque.

"Fine, edit it, bury it. It's all the same to me." He read over the payment. "Maybe you should save cash for a new backbone."

He stormed out as Smith collapsed on his desk from panic, considering calling the police before Dan came back with another story, they had been lenient so far, calling him all bark and no bite. Dan had taken advantage of their lenience by barking even louder when he came with another story of police brutality or missing persons...and now pirates.

[Khallos]

Meanwhile, the ship full of armaments was making good pace across the channel, chugging along merrily. The sea was flat as a pancake and there was not a cloud in sight, and if they kept this pace up they should make dock before nightfall.

Suddenly, though the ship ground to a halt, the sound of metal scraping against metal being heard and the entire vessel juddering, before just freezing on the spot.

"What the devil... Mr Mate! Report!" The captain barked, picking himself up and brushing himself down while the Bridge crew tried to gather up the fallen charts. "I dunno what happened, sah! It looks like we've run aground!" The captain blinked. "...In the middle of the English channel?! Are you mad?" The mate started to explain himself, before going wide eyed, staring out of the window. "Mate? Mate! Johnson, whats gotten into you?!" The captain yelled, just before the metallic tentacle came smashing through the bridge window...

********************************************************

The ship was in anarchy, sirens sounding and crewmen rushing to battle stations as the metallic tentacles snatched men right from where they stood and dragged them into the depths, or tore deck-guns right from their housings before they could fire. The tentacles were attracting so much attention that practically nobody noticed the sound of drilling coming from beneath the ship.. right up until the gigantic drills burst through the floor in the cargo hold, spinning in place for a few moments before retracting to let a raiding party vomit forth. "BOARDERS!" One of the hands managed yell, before being mown down by a sudden burst of rivets from one of the boarder's guns.. the invading men wearing enormous diving suits, giant bell helmets hiding their faces and their heavy boots clomping on the deck as they ran to secure the ship, or as they dragged their spoils back to the entrance holes - weapons crates and stunned crewmen alike, the report of gunfire rattling out from across the ship.

[Ty]

"Ship sighted off the starboard bow!"

Owen took a telescope from a nearby shipmate and looked toward the ship. He blinked and lowered it again, not believe his eyes. He looked through the telescope again, but the chaos was still there. As far as he could tell, the ship looked like it was being attacked by some kind of metal leviathan. Owen gritted his teeth and gripped the hand rail in front of him.

"Full speed ahead! You there, load the port and starboard cannons! We must retrieve that cargo!"

----------

As the invaders gathered up the crates, they would have noticed one crate slightly out of the ordinary. Aside from being somewhat larger and more rectangular than the others, it was covered in various warning stickers. "Keep Dry", "Handle With Care", and others.

Two of the pirates carried the crate from the hold of the ship. They set it down with the others in the pirate ship, then turned to go back for more. On the way out, one of the men stopped and turned back. For a moment, he'd thought he heard something moving...

[Captain Obvious]

OOC: Uh Oh, I can feel an epic battle coming on

IC: It was a cold, dreary day in London, which made Jake Featherston a very happy man.He had very fair skin that burned wherever the sun touched it.Jake smeared more zinc oxide ointment on his neck, and the backs of his ears.His long overcoat and fedora hat (Which was all the rage these days in the US) helped a bit to protect him from the suns harmful rays, but not enough to suit Jake.

"It doesn't help that this gun keeps smacking me in the knee" Jake thought to himself. At the moment, he was walking down the streets of London, searching for the address of 221B.221B was a small, normal looking house on the outside. But a close inspection of a certain room would show it leads to an underground meeting place and safehouse for several resistance parties.

"Finally!" Jake muttered to himself.As he stepped up several steps to the door of the house marked 221B he took off his hat, one of many signs that he was a friend of the resistance.The signals changed biweekly to keep the Ministry from noticing anything suspicious.Jake rapped his knuckles on the door twice in quick succession and waited for the door to open.When it did, Jake smiled and held out his hand.

"Jake Featherston, at your service." Jake said, sizing up the man who stood in the doorway. The man took his hand and shook it, saying "I'm Malcolm Reed, Its great to finally meet you, Mr. Featherston, let me show you to the chambers." Jake replied "Thank you kindly, sir" He spoke in a slight southern drawl when safe, but could speak with an impeccable British or "Yankee" accent if necessary.

As the man beckoned Jake inside he noted several windows and where the stairway was in relation to the door.He wouldn't want to be caught unprepared in case of a raid."We actually keep the entrance in the bathroom" Malcolm said, leading Jake through the large house.Reaching the bathroom, Jake saw no signs of any kind of trapdoor or seams along the wall where a door would be hiding."You must have spent a lot of time hiding the entrance if i can't find it." Jake said admiringly." We sure did, you wouldn't believe how much money it took to have these placed here." Malcolm replied, pulling a small tile in the shower out and pulling something inside.As Malcolm pulled his arm out an entire wall swung out in front of the toilet, on pneumatic hinges.

"Very nice" Jake said, even more impressed than he was seconds before."Please, follow me." Malcolm said, waving Jake to follow as he dissapeared down into a hidden staircase.Shrugging, Jake followed him.

[Oct-taku]

"Okay. That should do it." Richard Mayhew said, tightening a screw on a canister attached to the wall. His metal, skeleton-like hands held the screwdriver firmly, twisting it.

"Okay, time to go." he said, grabbing anything and everything vital: namly, his satchel.
****************************************************

Outside the warehouse, a large motorcart pulled up, and a group of six disembarked. Ringing the building were several squads of constables.

"Captain Carson, he is inside?" the man at the head of the group asked the CO.

"Yessir. We've got him surrounded, and I sent in a squad of my best men."

"You sent in a squad? Even though your orders were to hold until we got here?"

"Well, Mr. Symes, sir, we, uh....didn't want him slipping away before you got here." Carson said. These Ministry types always made him nervous, with their pricey suits and their...their...general attitude. Made everyone uneasy.

"Commendable thinking, Captain. But I'm afraid all you've done if produce 6 peices of meat." Symes said. "Mr. Conklin, get on the field telephone to HQ. I want every available police and millitary members here." he didn't have to add the "Now."
****************************************************
Richard slipped the blades back into his arms, grabbing one of the officer's revolvers off the floor, and loading it with loose shells from the man's belt.

"Okay, really time to go."

[Khallos]

The diving suit clad invaders wrapped up things with disturbing efficiency, gunning down anyone they met who tried to resist while bludgeoning into unconsciousness anyone who tried to surrender, any survivors from either circumstance being picked up and dragged off by more lightly armed divers from the second wave. Leading the first wave, however, was a figure who looked rather more important than the others - the brass of his bell helmet was highly polished and embossed with gold guilt, and modified officers markings on the suit's sleeves imitated that of the British Navy in a mocking parody. He had the nastiest gun, too, something that looked like a rifle with a drum strapped to one end that spat out hot lead in an endless stream, cleaving metal and flesh with ruthless efficiency, a saber hanging from the figure's belt.

The invaders had quickly cleared out the under decks and were now moving across the upper deck, calmly ducking under the flailing tentacles as they made their way to the bridge...

The captain of the cruiser had ordered the mates and the rest of the bridge crew to barricade the door as best they could, piling up chairs and tables against the handle so it couldn't be turned from the outside. Three loud knocks rang against the metal, the handle jiggled.. and then, all went quiet for almost a minute. "Looks like they've.." One of the mates said.. only for the door to suddenly explode into a million pieces, shrapnel flying inwards and scything down the crew as three divers stormed in, quickly followed by the gold-suited diver... who would calmly stroll over, through the mess, his gigantic boots crushing one of the bridge crew as he made his way over to the bleeding but still alive form of the captain.. a white thickly gloved hand reaching down to grab his shirt and hoist him up to the helmet's viewport, a pair of piercing blue eyes and a bushy beard staring back at him from the other side...

******************************************************

As the airship approached the divers on the deck would look up, only to start waving signals at each other and pointing to the hatches, quickly starting to move back into the bowels of the ship - and, emerging from the bridge, 4 figures, one of which had the form of the captain slung over it's shoulder...

******************************************************

And, finally, down in the hold of the pirate's ship, one of the loading hands paused a moment.. going over to the strangely shaped crate and giving it a few raps with his knuckle, one gloved hand running over its surface as he tried to work out it's contents.

[Ty]

Owen watched the scene below in silence. Most of the officers made a point of keeping their distance from him. Finally, by process of elimination, one of them was forced to approach him.

"Sir? Your men stand at the ready. What are your orders?"

"My orders?" Owen turned slowly to face the others. "I want you to prepare two extraction teams of six men each, including yourself. Once we're directly over the vessel, you will lower the port side lifeboat and board the ship. The second team will follow shortly after. You will kill any and all pirates you encounter. You will then extract the crate containing-"

"Pardon me, sir..."

Owen clenched his jaw. "You have something to add, lieutenant?"

The tension among the men visibly rose. No one wanted to get on the General's bad side. The officer who spoke nervously cleared his throat.

"Sir, it's just... well, the pirates, sir. They've taken the captain of the ship hostage."

"What is your point?"

"Well, if we were to carry out that course of action, it would put the captain in danger."

Owen stepped forward and met eyes with the officer. He was actually several inches taller than Owen, but Owen had a way of making a man feel very small. "What is your name, lieutenant?"

"Jones, sir."

"Well, then, tell me, Lieutenant Jones, just what course of action would you suggest?"

"Well, sir, perhaps if we negotiate, we-"

Jones was cut off as Owen grabbed him by the collar and yanked him forward, holding the man at eye level.

"Negotiate!? You are a soldier in the service of the glorious British Empire. More importantly, you are in my service, and everything you do reflects on me. I am the Empire, Lieutenant Jones, and the Empire does not negotiate with common criminals! Is that clear?!"

"S-sir!"

"You will proceed as ordered and retrieve the crate. And once it is secured, you will all take your battle stations and open fire, and you will not stop until that metal monstrosity is sitting at the bottom of the sea."

"But- the captain-"

"He is expendable. That crate is not."

"Sir!" Jones managed to dig up the courage for a final moment of dissent. "You know I would go to my death to protect the Empire. But I can not, in good conscience, condemn an innocent man to death."

"...Is that a fact? So be it." Owen frowned and released Jones. Without another word, he walked back over to the cannon on the port bow, took aim and fired. A glowing ball of fire shot straight at the men on the cargo ship's deck, exploding on impact. The four men were sent flying, and the one carrying the captain was throw clear overboard.

"Any more comments?!"

The rest of the men nervously shook their heads.

"Arm yourselves and move out!"

The men scrambled into action, grabbing their guns and preparing to drop the lifeboats. As the airship settled over the cargo ship, it belched a cloud of steam and hovered slightly lower. It came to rest about fifty feet above the deck of the ship, and the men began hurriedly lowering themselves down in the lifeboats, prepared to follow Owen's orders to the letter.

---

Meanwhile, down in the hold of the pirate vessel, the loading hand would have been surprised to hear a faint knock in return, followed by the sound of slow, steady movement. Whatever was inside, it was beginning to rouse.

[Captain Obvious]

IC:"So in short, Mr Featherston, with these crackdowns our men are losing sight of our objectives.Every time a man is arrested, or a plan is foiled, we all lose hope.If we can't find something that can make people see that we can rise up, nobody will have the nerve to come to our side, to stop this regime, to save the world from the monster Britain has become."

Jake furrowed his eyebrows, deep in thought.He was sitting in an overstuffed chair in one of the rooms below the Reed household.Four rooms sprawled out from the entrypoint in the bathroom, connected by a short, easily defensible hallway..It had potential to grow, but you cant really get away with digging tunnels when a government like Lorrimore's was around.

The complex, if you wanted to call it that, was a dirty place, though Malcolm and his wife usually tried to keep it clean in case any VIPs happened to need its services.It had been created basically by hand, though a construction worker had managed to steal a steam powered drill..Jake was sitting in the briefing room, talking, or rather listening, to a man by the name of Arthur Dodd.

Arthur was usually acknowledged as a leader of sorts, though the resistance had no real leader, (Apart from Richard Mayhew, who was "Preoccupied") most of the freedom fighters recognized Arthur as a experienced man.He had served in the British Army for many years as a mustang, a soldier who rose to an officer rank through hard work instead of officers school.He knew a thing or two about warfare.

"What have you managed lately?" Jake asked Arthur, cocking his head to the side quizzically."Well, we attempted to sabotage a steel refinery, but a Ministry of Internal Affairs team killed three of our saboteurs, and captured another.We did manage to sabotage several cannonballs headed to the Airship Corps recently, as far as we know the Airmen have no idea that their cannons will explode when they try to fire them." Arthur answered.

"How many did you manage to sabotage? A hundred? Two hundred?" Jake asked."Erm... eight, actually" Arthur replied, squirming in his seat.Jake sighed.

"Things like faulty cannonballs can be explained away, and do nothing but agitate that imbecile Lorrimore.What this resistance needs is something so grand that newspapers will HAVE to print it.Something so big, it will go down in history.

"What do you have in mind?"

Jake smiled at Arthur.

"We're going to steal the crown jewels."

[Khallos]

Loud swearing that only a seaman could muster was heard as the group on the deck was sent flying, bouncing along the deck and one of them denting his helmet.. but, as all but one of them picked themselves up, they didn't seem to be any worse for the ware, still clomping along towards the railings at the side of the ship. One of the metallic tentacles reached up onto the deck to grab the stricken diver and drag it under the water, while the other three turned back to give one last salvo of high caliber bullets up at the descending lifeboats before clambering over the rails and into the waters beneath.

And, as they slowly sunk, tentacles would move out to pluck each of them from the sea and hoist them back inside the submersible, one of the deck crew on board the Morlock taking the shell-shocked, half drowned captain of the cargo ship off of Khallos.

The rest of the divers still on the cargo ship would be doing similar things, either finding window and such to vault out of or clomping their way back down to the cargo hold, stealing anything that wasn't bolted down (And several of them pausing to undo the bolts on stuff that was) As they made a hasty exit. By the time the lifeboats touched down most of them would already be off the ship, the last few in the cargo hold trying to ease a cooker down the boarding tube and into the Morlock. And, of course, by the time Owen's men made it that far into the ship, probably setting off a few of the home made mines that they'd left as they retreated, they'd be just in time to see the last of the divers closing the hatch on the boarding tube, giving one last cheek wave before sealing the tube... and letting it retract, salt water gushing up through the hole it left behind

******************************************************

Hearing the knock, the loading hand straightened up for a moment.. looking to two of the divers who'd been making their way down the ladder from the hatch, waving them over. Two rivet guns were pointed at the crate, while the loading hand went to summon the captain.

OOC: Hrmm, not too sure about that post. Sorry if I'm advancing the plot too fast!

[Oct-taku]

Richard looked out the window at the ever-increasing number of police, and the small amount of millitary force.

"Okay, now it is seriously time to go, before...nevermind." he said, having just spotted Oliver Symes. He sighed, dug in his bag, and spread an odd cord out on the floor. He looped it into a circle, before setting it on fire and ducking behind a crate.
****************************************************

All those outside heard, and felt, the explosion. It was then that Symes, Conklin, Roberts, Cryford, Danson, and Pettigrew all rushed inside. All but Symes carried Auto-Reapeating Rifles (Red: SMGs), the latest Lorrimore Industries model: 605.

Mayhew was nowhere to be seen. The only evidence of his existance was a large hole in the floor, leading down into...somewhere. Oh, that, and the 18 canisters on the walls.

"Oh, sh*t." Danson muttered, as the squad heard the ticking of the bombs.

"I beleive it's time to evacuate." Symes said rather causually.
****************************************************

Hours later, a dirty and reeking Richard Mayhew walked through the back door of a house belonging to a man named Malcom Reed.

[Scorpio]

Hearing about a police raid on a radio on the way out of the editors office. Dan had gotten back to his work rather quickly, hitching a ride by hopping on the back of one of the military police vans to secure him a straight quick trip to the scene.

From what he gathered from the chatter it was Symes, the head honcho for the MIA leading a charge against another resistance leader. Good chance for an interview.

"Hey buddy." Dan called to one of the cops outside during the raid. "Since you aren't authorised or even trained to answer any of my questions. How about you call someone with a bit of fame or infamy to their name?"

"Uh...we're in the middle of a raid right now....damn I shouldn't be telling you this."

"Relax, it's all good here." Dan pushed past the cop to get a better view. This was how a lot of his journalism went, act more important than he was so he could get past to the important stuff.

[Captain Obvious]

Jake sat in the armory/storage room of the complex, cleaning a nice broomhandle he had found.Chambered for the new 9x19 round this Mauser was a beauty.Malcolm had "acquired" this broomhandle from the german embassy.It seemed as that a man who just fell 5 stories and broke his neck wouldn't need his sidearm any longer.Several successful raids on ammo depots had given the resistance a stock, albeit small, of lorrimores weapons and ammo.

When Jake saw this room it was like a five year old at a toy store.He wanted to touch everything, to have them all!So many great weapons but so little time.Jake had procured a few more magazines for his MP18, but he would need to conserve them.You wouldn't want to have to pick up used magazines during a firefight.Arthur had insisted on waiting for Mayhew, so Jake decided to kill some time drooling over the stockpile the resistance had.

Jake finished cleaning the Mauser and put it back in it's wooden carrying case/stock.He walked across the room and grabbed his MP18 from the crate it had been resting on, smiling lovingly at the trusty weapon.Sitting down, Jake was about to start disassembling it when the door opened behind him."Hey Art, can you pass me that cleaning rod? This barrel has seen better..." Jake forgot what he was saying as he stood and turned to meet the man standing in the doorway.

The man looked like he had crawled through the sewers to get here, his clothes covered with soot, his hair matted, and his eyebrows singed.Oh, and his hands were made out of metal.

"Ah, Mr Mayhew, Its good to finally meet you." Jake said, politely holding out his hand and smiling.

[Ty]

Owen cursed as he watched the ship below. Had they arrived a minute sooner, the ship's secret cargo would be in his possession by now. But it seemed, despite his best efforts, they were too late.

"Sir, the pirate vessel has disappeared!"

"I can see that, you bloody dolt!" Owen took a breath. Already, he could see the cargo ship was starting to sink. "We have no choice, for now. Sound the retreat; get the men back on board and tend to the wounded."

"Yes, sir!"

As the officer left, Owen leaned forward on the railing, deep in thought. For now, they'd have to return to port, but not for long. Wherever the pirate ship was headed, Owen wanted to be sure he wasn't far behind.

"Those fools don't know what they have on board," he muttered to himself. "And if I have my way, they'll never have to. I'll see it destroyed before they can use it against me."

-----

Name: Franklin Steele
Codename: DOOMSDAY
Age: 38
Height: 6'4''
Eyes: Brown
Hair: None
Occupation: Soldier
Skills: Inhuman strength and stamina, basic firearms training
Weapons/Gear: arm-mounted flamethrower, bullet-resistant body armor, hydraulic-aided artificial legs

Bio: In his previous life, Steele was a British soldier fighting overseas. As far as he can remember, he was killed in action by a land mine. However, after the battle was over, the remains of his body were collected. He had been selected for an experimental new project, to create an unstoppable super-soldier.

Most of Steele's body is now artificial, constructed from metal and synthetic materials. His torso is mostly bullet resistant, but it wouldn't matter if it wasn't; he no longer needs blood to live. His hydraulic-powered legs give him the ability to jump like a flea, and he can run up to 30 mph. His right arm is connected to an oil reservoir in his stomach, allowing him to shoot flames almost ten feet, though only in quick bursts.

Lastly, his human heart was replaced with a clockwork mechanism, and it's the only thing that keeps him alive. His creators estimated that approximately one month after activation, that mechanism will fail, and he will immediately die. At that time, a powerful incendiary bomb in his chest cavity, capable of torching an entire building, is set to detonate. Hence, the name 'Doomsday'.

[Oct-taku]

OOC: Just so you know, Ty, Flamethrowers are rather...cantankerous in this alternate history. The portable models are the size of small boilers, and often vehcile-mounted. Steele's okay, but the flamethrower's fuel would have to be replaced after 5-10 bursts or so.

[Ty]

Jul 31, 2008 22:39:42 GMT Oct-taku said:

OOC: Just so you know, Ty, Flamethrowers are rather...cantankerous in this alternate history. The portable models are the size of small boilers, and often vehcile-mounted. Steele's okay, but the flamethrower's fuel would have to be replaced after 5-10 bursts or so.

OOC: Understood. That was the plan, really.

[Oct-taku]

OCC: Okay. I've no problem with it then.

[Oct-taku]

Richard quickly shook the new guy's hand before walking across the room, laying his new pistol on the table, and lighting a ciggarette.

"See, this is why traveling in the daytime in a hazard. I'm too easily recognized."
****************************************************

Meanwhile, Symes and his team would be running out of the warehouse. They managed to get behind one of the motorcarts as the warehouse went sky-high in a massive fireball.

"Captain Carson! What was inside that warehouse?"

"Umm, crates of dynamite, sir."

This was said right before a certain journalist got there.

[Scorpio]

Dan wisely caught on when the MIA started running away from the building and started back with them. Diving over one of the cars and looking back up at one of the cops. Looked like the head honcho Symes.

"Oliver Symes of the MIA right? How will you be spinning the results of this raid?"

[Captain Obvious]

"Well, wanted posters for you are on every other street corner, your a household name, and you have metal arms. Your pretty hard to miss." Jake said, smiling.

Jake quickly got serious."Which is why i'd like to secure some more manpower.The Freedom Party gained momentum because we could hold public meetings. Here, the resistance has to hide underground while the presses print out whatever Lorrimore wants them to."

"People don't take you seriously." Jake said, sitting on a crate and leaning forward. "People think that your just for show, a facade.They won't join a cause they don't believe in. What you need, is something that will grab the people's attention."

Jake studied Mayhew.The man was taking a long drag on his ciggarette, deep in thought.

He continued."I proposed this to Arthur, but he wanted me to consult with you first, seeing as the men look up to you. I want to get a team together and take as many of the crown jewels as we can carry.Basically, its a publicity stunt. I believe people will flock to us if we can pull it off.(Jake didn't think Mayhew noticed when he started referring to the resistance as "we"). The same thing happened when we first set destroyed the munitions depot in Ontario.We NEED this."

Jake leaned back on the crate and crossed his arms, waiting for Mayhews response.